He was poling his scow over toward the girls, towing their boat in, aided by the current. A little later he had leaped ashore with the rope, pulling the anchor after him.
"We're a thousand times obliged to you!" exclaimed Mollie, impulsively. "We never should have known what to do without our boat. We're from Bentonville."
"Yes? That's quite a ways down." The youth, in spite of his rags, had a good-looking face and a pleasant manner. He seemed restless and afraid, and was constantly glancing about him, as though in fear of seeing someone or something he did not care to encounter.
"Would you—I mean, can we do anything for you?" half stammered Betty. She wanted to offer him money, but she did not quite know how he would accept it. "If you are going down stream," she went on, "we could take you as far as we are going. If you would come with us, perhaps——"
"Oh, no, I couldn't think of it!" the youth cried—cried out in very fear, it seemed to Mollie, who was observing him narrowly. "I must go on—go on alone. I am going for help!"
"For help!" exclaimed Betty. "What is the trouble? Perhaps we can help you. We are from Mr. Stonington's orange grove, and if we told him you needed help——"
"No, no!" interrupted the youth, glancing about him nervously. "It isn't that kind of help. I am trying to help someone else. I—I can't tell you. But I must be getting on. And will you do me a favor?" he asked suddenly.
"Of course!" cried Betty. "We will be only too glad to, since you did so much for us. Only for you our boat might be far up the river now. What can we do for you?"
"Don't tell anyone you saw me," begged the youth, earnestly. "There are those who would stop me—take me back where I came from. They are after me—they may be below me, trying to head me off. If you meet them—meet any rough-looking men who ask for me—don't tell them about me. Don't set them after me, please."
"You may be sure we will not!" exclaimed Betty, warmly. "Are you from——"